Zande Khanda
Zande Khanda (Zahn-Dee Kawn-Dā), is a Karamjan-born mercenary who migrated into Asgarnia from the Wilderness. He is currently a skirmisher in the Horde of Decay, a Zamorakian faction that serves a demon lord, as well as a deathbringer of the Black Regiment. He is a headhunter by hobby, and currently resides within the slums of Varrock. He was disowned by his tribe for excessive violent tendencies, and no longer holds any connection to his old family. He believes that Zamorak is a noble deity, and that by accumulating a fearsome reputation one can become an ethical "whipping boy", helping others to unite by giving them a bad guy to focus on. That being said, Zande has always enjoyed his job, as much as he enjoys food. He is rarely seen not chowing down on a banana or gulping rum. Zande suffers from an extremely acute case of ailurophobia, an unusually intense fear of felines. He frequents combat hotspots and still goes hunting in the Wilderness, always eager to amass more "trophies" for his already enormous collection. Whenever he isn't causing trouble, Zande may be found relaxing in a bar or searching for bargains in the local market. Especially good deals on flashy clothing. The man loves his fashion. He has only been in Asgarnia for a short time, but has already found his niche in society. He is played by the user Doc Doctor. Personality Despite his gruesome hobbies and fearsome reputation in the Wilderness, Zande is an extremely friendly and approachable man. He doesn't mind sharing food and drink and loves goofing around. Zande even seems at ease amongst vampyres and white knights. Though this may be legitimate affection, it could also just be the fact that he doesn't consider any other living creature in Gielinor besides the Shaikahan to be a threat. Just as a lion frolics carelessly about on the Savannah, Zande freely comes and goes as he pleases, associating with anybody he desires. He is a straightforward thinker, and often acts on his gut instincts. This goes without saying, he is by no means a dullard. He holds a large amount of social and combative experience, and has a knack for predicting the thoughts and actions of others. Though ruthless with his enemies, Zande gives quarter to women and children. He has no qualms about fighting dirty, but prefers to only hunt strong game that has at least a little potential for challenge. He doesn't have any long-term goals, and enjoys just living in the moment. He loves life's simple pleasures, such as adventure, alcohol, and the temporary company of women. But more so that, he enjoys food. Zande adores every kind of exotic edible, and will merrily eat just about anything that can be digested. After a long, hard day of headhunting, Zande finds nothing so grand as to kick back, grab some imported Karumjan rum with banana slices, and dig into a fat slice of home-style long pork pie. He also likes dressing fancy and keeping with the latest Karumjan fashion trends. Possibly his greatest personality flaw, Zande has an intense and unreasonable feline phobia. At the merest sight of even a teeny kitten, he loses bladder control and flies into hysterics. He is literally mentally incapacitated from fear when faced with the likeness of a cat, even if it is only a carving. The only thing he can do is sob in terror and flee for the sake of his sanity. Only one thing can comfort Zande after a frightening encounter with a kitty; tending to his pets. Zande harbors several trained vultures, the only living things he truly cares for. Though he usually has a very mellow attitude and a remarkably long fuse, harming his vultures is a surefire way to draw out his anger. That, and being a traitor. Zande is astoundingly loyal to whomever he pledges service, and despises traitors with a fiery intensity. When he was banished from his home village at a young age, he felt betrayed by his own people and swore to never again suffer anybody that two-times him. Biography Genesis Born in a tribesman village West of Brimhaven, Zande was what could be called a problem child. One of the laws of the jungle is that one must kill only to survive. Zande killed for food, and he killed in self defense. But, to the shame of his family, he also killed for fun. He was a prodigal hunter, and could get the drop on a wild larupia as easily as he could chase a monkey up a tree. And both things he did on many occasions. Unfortunately, he also liked getting the drop on warriors from other villages. And with every kill he made, be it animal or man, Zande collected the head. He filled his little hut up with body parts, and spend many hours gorging himself on the raw flesh. As months passed, his hut was soon filled with the stench of rot, and soon even the patience of the grizzled tribe leader waned. At last when the smell became too much, the leader marched over to Zande's hut and flung the thatch door open, determined to get rid of the boy's gory stash. To his astonishment, a veritable tidal wave of decomposing skulls crashed into him and knocked him to the ground, the tribe leader nearly getting buried under the sheer number of heads. Upon realizing that the young headhunter's obsession was far beyond sane, the leader banished the boy from the village and forbade him to ever return. Zande's precious little heart was broken, and despite his desperate pleas to stay, he was still forced to leave everything he knew behind. Zande travelled from village to village, attempting to find a new home. But word of his bothersome reputation had spread, and he had already killed many warriors from other villages. He was completely shunned by Karamjan civilization, forced to live in the wild. Vengeful tribesmen from other villages even attempted to track him down and kill him. His feelings of betrayal were beyond words. As warm tropical rain soaked the dense foliage in which he hid, Zande swore to never again allow someone break his trust and live. With nothing to lose, Zande set out to claim his revenge. He adapted quickly to his new lifestyle and became self-sufficient. When he got hungry, he ate fruits and wildlife. When he was thirsty, he drank rain water that had collected on broad leaves. His already deadly abilities became deadlier, and eventually he could not only escape hunting parties with ease, but annihilate them. He became a ghost, picking off anybody that strayed out of sight, and even killing hunters who were in full visibility with such skill that their deaths went unnoticed until it became obvious that the size of the hunting party had been greatly diminished. And then, one night, his life changed once again. A few years after his banishment, he had grown into a formidable young man and was ready to hunt down and kill his old tribe leader. Zande gleefully darted through the jungle and towards his village, ready to take on life and give back death. What he wasn't ready for, however, was the Shaikahan. Zande didn't see the terrible beast lying in wait, and ran right into it. The scourge of the jungle. The greatest predator on Karamja. He didn't stand a chance against it. Only his wild instinct and razor-sharp reflexes saved his life. Zande sprung out of the way, the beast's massive paw just skimming the right side of his face. A long foreclaw opened a deep gash down the side of his head, from which a lifelong scar would remain. He rolled to his feet, reaching for his spear... And was frozen by the demon creature's glare. To some, the gaze of the Shaikahan isn't so bad. There are those who know no fear, and certainly those who would have no problem braving such a monster. But, perhaps it touched upon some primal fear deep within the young warrior's subconscious. Perhaps it was because Zande had never encountered anything so dangerous in all his life. Whatever the reason, it just so happened that the Shaikahan was more terrifying than anything the still naïve young man could have ever imagined. Zande soiled his robes, turned tail, and fled for his life. He leapt through foliage and scampered over fallen trees as quickly as his long legs could carry him, the Shaikahan in hot pursuit. He could hear its swift footfalls and heavy breath right behind him, adrenaline lending speed to his feet. Through sheer luck Zande was able to find refuge in a dense and thorny brush, entering through a gap that was just his size. The chase had only lasted several seconds, all that would have normally been needed for the dreaded monster to chase down its prey. But Zande had been incredibly agile, and fleet of foot. He dove into the cover just in time, the beast snapping at his heels but stopping short as long thorns dug into its tender face. Nearly mad with fright and bleeding all over his body from scrapes and bruises, Zande could only quiver like a rabbit and stare wild-eyed at the persistant monstrosity that patiently stalked back and forth. For two days it waited, never allowing the tribesman a moments rest. Eventually, the Shaikahan was lured away by a passing monkey. Shivering violently, dehydrated and exhausted, Zande crept out from his hiding place and went North towards Brimhaven, desiring nothing more than to distance himself from the nightmare. Along the way he replenished his strength with tropical fruit. In the evening he arrived, and killed a drunken pirate that had been loitering alone behind a bar. He claimed the man's head, money, and rum before buying himself a one way ticket off the island via Charter ship to Port Sarim. He stole a map from a general store in Rimmington, and decided that the best way to make up for the shame of having been stripped of his apex predator status in Karumja was to travel to the Wilderness and become the top dog there instead. And so Zande killed his way across Asgarnia, looting the equipment and heads of those he felled. Soon a sizable bounty was placed upon his head, and he could no longer reside around among civilized company. He completed his long trek, hopped the Wildy Wall, and embraced his new future with open arms and a toothy smile. Evolution As it turned out, Zande was more at home in the Wilderness than he had been in the jungle. No laws, no taboos, no limits. He adapted very quickly. The very first thing he did was enter a camp of bandits, steal their leader's head, and become their new boss. Naturally he had been met with a fair deal of opposition, but in the same way he hadn't stood a ghost of a chance against the Shaikahan, the bandits didn't stand a ghost of a chance against Zande. In less than a week they gave up on trying to murder him in his sleep. Every day he'd venture out to hunt challenging prey, stalking and decapitating anybody and anything that he caught wind of. In two years, he had amassed so many kills that his troupe of bandits had to dig out an immense cavern just to store all of the trophy bones in. He sold the equipment of his victims and used the money to purchase illegal Zamorak potions to increase his physical ability. Despite his best efforts, however, Zande couldn't seem to reach his goal of complete dominance. The Worshippers of the Dragonkin resided within the deep Wilderness, and their sheer numbers and above-average training made them incredibly difficult to target. They sent scouts ahead to keep an eye out for danger, and always seemed to have the upper hand. Zande could only watch from afar and wish that he was strong enough to take them all on at once. Another problem was the Chaos Elemental. Zande was well informed of its formidable power, and struggled to find a strategy to conquer it. The elemental's ability to teleport its victims posed an enormous problem for Zande, as his usual hit-and-run sneak attacks revolved around being able to outmaneuver his opponents. The abomination's magic attacks were so deadly, a single direct hit would spell certain death. To this day, Zande still puzzles over how to kill the Chaos Elemental. Despite these setbacks, the headhunter's underworld reputation grew. The skull and crossbones insignia upon his cloak became an icon of death, but only to his own men. Anybody else who saw his cloak didn't live long enough to speak of it. Zande was a proud man, but he knew he lacked enlightenment. He drank Zamorak potions, but had no idea of who Zamorak truly was. At last, he decided to visit a chapel devoted to the god of chaos. Once again, Zande's life was changed. Scapegoat Zande had never taken his own morality into account before his visit to the chapel, and had always killed freely and without hesitation. But he was forced to re-think his ideals as he listened to the wise words of the monks of Zamorak. They convinced him that he was wasting his talents and life by just mucking about with bandits and killing aimlessly. The more they spoke, the more Zande listened. While Bandos preached about survival of the fittest, Zamorak believed in helping both the mighty and the weak better themselves by forcing them to become stronger through chaos. There was so much to learn, so much to take in. It was a new world, unexplored by the bewildered savage. It was strange, alien, and... Alluring. Zande felt the strings of destiny tugging, and so he thought up his own take on the matter. If a person perceived as a villain gained enough power, then others would stop fighting amongst themselves and unite against him. A scapegoat for peace. Zande's eyes teared up at the thought of such an honorable role. Especially since it was a role he could fulfill without giving up his headhunting hobby! Right then and there, Zande renounced his former ways of evil and took up a brand new mantle of evil. Perhaps a bit redundant, but it meant a lot at the time. But Zamorakians were heavily prosecuted on the opposite side of the Wildy's border, and as skilled as Zande already was, he knew that it wasn't enough. He'd need to step up his skill for the big leagues. As he pondered this, he came upon a nest of baby vultures. The parents had been devoured by a blue dragon. On a whim, Zande decided to give adoption a shot. He took the vultures back to his camp, and at the suggestion of another bandit, began trying to train them. It was exceedingly difficult, and they were by no means tame creatures. At every twist and turn, they threw Zande a loop. Some would fly away, and not return for days. They were almost unmanageable. Yet, as time passed, the headhunter found himself growing increasingly fond of the birds. Zande persisted. He read stolen books on animal training, and poured his heart into their education. After many months, progress finally began to show. The scavenging birds finally learned how to retain their training, and at the same time Zande became strongly attached to them. Never before had he felt true affection towards other living things. With nothing else holding him back, Zande chose then to head back into Asgarnia to seek his future and fortune. He took with him only Ezili, his favorite vulture, and for the first time in a decade left the Wilderness. Ambition The first thing Zande set out to do was find others like himself. He needed to get connections. He enlisted into the Black Regiment, but things didn't quite turn out so well. There was no business, and hardly anybody was eager to go cause mayhem. But then, he heard on the street that there was a Zamorakian faction hiding in Varrock, called the Horde of Decay. Zande found them with ease, and quickly joined up. In order to test his loyalty, Commander Barry Ronson temporarily crippled Zande's right arm, before initiating a spar. Even without the use of his primary weapon and limb, Zande was able to take Ronson to the floor and tear open his carotid artery. But, Ronson had severely wounded Zande as well, having stabbed him in the belly and flank. Pressed for time, Barry ended the match and had the official healer tend to their wounds. Zande was glad to have found such an active group. They held meetings often, and there was much fun to be had. But, on the downside, the pay was terribe. The tribesman knew that he had to get another source of income if he wanted to maintain a decent standard of living. Zande set out for Falador, drawn in by the legendary Rising Sun Inn. He knew there was good money in hocking the items taken from dead bodies, and surely no place on the planet had more death than Falador. Zande's presumption proved to be true. He made a killing, no pun intended. Appearance Zande is a tall, lean man whose musculature is best likened to that of a starved jaguar. The dense, tube-like muscles adorning his long arms and legs allow him to exude a great air of physical prowess, despite his thin and wiry look. High cheekbones accentuate his abnormally sized jaw muscles, the feral aspect pushed even further by his sharp, filed teeth. Unwashed dreadlocks hang over lurid, amber eyes. He often wears the skulls of recent victims upon his belt, and is rarely seen without his rubber padded, steel clawed boots and black steel tribal mask. Zande's cape, however, is by far his greatest trademark. A clearly visible skull and crossbones is sewn upon the ratty black cloak, neatly surmising the headhunter's affiliation with bones and death. The tribesman has an affinity with axes, clubs, and especially spears, and can usually be seen toting around something of the sort. He has in his possession a large, bearded sparth axe, a double headed iklwa headhunting spear, a simple one-handed club, and a large two-handed blade club. Abilities Skill Zande is an extremely experienced warrior, and has fought innumerable enemies over the course of his life. His perception and skill is of such caliber, that his reaction to a multitude of armed opponents is comparable to a small child's reaction to a caged gerbil. Considerable amusement, and after a few minutes, boredom. Trivia & Music Gallery Category:Characters Category:Warrior Category:Zamorakian Category:Male Category:Humans